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Pure Vanilla Cookie stared up at the ceiling. Painted flowers stared back at him. His mind raced with old memories, with old guilt. Images of Dark Enchantress Cookie swirled through his mind, along with the cookie she used to be. He shuddered and folded his blanket, sitting up; he couldn’t just lay here like this, suffocated by blankets and his own despair. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Maybe he could go to his garden, water his flowers. He walked over to the door.
Just as he set his hand on the doorknob, a horrible feeling lanced through him, like something bad was about to happen. His muscles stiffened and he pulled the door open, running down the hall to find the source of the premonition. His legs carried him to Custard Cookie III’s room, and he cracked the door open.
There, under the fluffy blankets, Custard’s head was barely visible in the golden glow of his nightlight, turning back and forth as small whimpers cut through the silent air. Pure Vanilla moved quickly to his bedside, setting his hands on Custard’s covered shoulders.
“Custard Cookie III,” he whispered, gently shaking him. “It’s just a dream. Wake up!”
Custard Cookie III bolted upright with a gasp, his blue eyes wide and unfocused and his body tense. He tried to tug his shoulders out of Pure Vanilla’s grip. “Let go!”
“It’s alright,” Pure Vanilla lifted his hands. “It’s only me.”
Custard’s eyes cleared, and he met Pure Vanilla’s gaze. His body slackened as he whimpered. “Oh.”
“It’s alright,” Pure Vanilla whispered again, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Did you have a nightmare?”
Custard looked down at his blankets.
“Custard?”
The boy rubbed his thumb along the soft surface.
“Your majesty?”
That got him to look up. His eyes were still wide with residual fear, but his brow was furrowed in frustration.
Pure Vanilla set a hand on Custard’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Custard Cookie III leaned into his touch, but looked off to the side. “Kings aren’t supposed to have bad dreams.”
Pure Vanilla frowned. “Well, that’s not right.” He gently pulled Custard Cookie III into his lap, fluffy blanket and all. “I have nightmares too.”
Custard gasped, looking up at Pure Vanilla in shock. “Really?”
Pure Vanilla nodded, wrapping the fluffy blanket more comfortably around his grandson and cradling him in his arms. “Of course. Everyone has bad dreams, even the mightiest of kings and the bravest of cookies. I bet even Gingerbrave has nightmares sometimes.”
Custard Cookie III leaned against Pure Vanilla’s chest, almost closing his eyes. “What do you have nightmares about?”
Pure Vanilla tensed, considering his options. It would be the best idea to tell him the truth, right? But he couldn’t tell him everything. He wouldn’t want to frighten the poor boy. He took a deep breath. “The Dark Flour War. Dark Enchantress and who she used to be. And…all of my regrets surrounding that.”
“Regrets?” Custard frowned softly, innocently. “But…you’re Pure Vanilla Cookie! You always do the right thing! You always win!”
Pure Vanilla sighed, sadness swirling in his soul. “Not always.” He took a deep breath; he didn’t want to burden this child with his mountainous regrets. “But that’s not my point. My point is that every cookie has regrets, nightmares, and bad thoughts sometimes, and that’s alright, and that means asking for help with them is alright, too.”
A smile crept across Custard’s face as he closed his eyes, cuddling against Pure Vanilla Cookie. “Thanks, Grandpa.”
Pure Vanilla smiled, holding him close. “Of course, your majesty.”